


Once Upon a Dream

by afreedomdragon



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age - Freeform, Dragon Age: Inquisition - Freeform, Solavellan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2018-12-21 06:56:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11938728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afreedomdragon/pseuds/afreedomdragon
Summary: Asharen Lavellan was once a simple Dalish hunter, providing food and protection for her clan. But when the Divine calls a meeting between the warring Templars and Mages, her Keeper sends her to spy upon the Conclave, saying that what may happen there will impact the elves greatly. Little did Asharen know that by journeying far from her home, from all that is familiar to her, she starts down a path of destiny that will reshape and shake the foundations of Thedas.





	1. Prologue

Warm, golden sunlight filtered onto the soft grassy forest floor through the emerald leaves of tall strong trees, and bird song mingled with the whisper of the wind and the babbling of a nearby creek, creating a beautiful symphony. Wooden aravels with blue sails rumbled down a worn stone path pulled by white halla, and walking alongside the vessels were elves. Many were laughing and talking amongst themselves. Some of them even sang, their voices harmonizing with the music of the surrounding forest. The Dalish clan was returning from its venture near the human cities in the Free Marches, trading furs and herbs with merchants, and gathering news of the outside world, which lay just beyond their lands. It had been a good trading season, and with autumn on the horizon, the clan retreated back to the wilds until next summer. 

The clan made camp in a clearing near the creek, releasing their halla to graze at the edges of the clearing. Within minutes, the camp had come to life. Fires were lit, the smell of food being cooked filled the air, and the aravels were arranged in a protective circle around the clearing. And amidst all this, was a young elven girl, with silver hair. She couldn’t have been older than three years old, and she looked up at her fellow clan members with startling blue eyes. She wandered through the camp, unsteadily waddling on her feet; she had just barely learned how to walk, but that didn’t stop her from curiously moving about the camp. Some of her clan mates stopped to smile at her as she walked by, and she grinned back. Eventually her gaze fell on a small path, and she took off down the path, walking as fast as her legs could carry her. 

The path lead through the underbrush and lead to a small clearing covered in colorful flowers, and in the center of the clearing, was a large, stone wolf, its eyes staring forward. The elven child giggled, chasing a an orange butterfly, small hands grabbing at it. Stumbling upon an unseen root, the little girl fell forward, scraping her elbows. As she sat up, she began to cry, closing her eyes to the world. That’s when she felt something wet press against her cheek.

Wiping her tears with balled up fists, she opened her eyes, finding herself face to face with a large, black wolf. But there was something different about this wolf. Its eyes were a brilliant green, and they stared into her eyes with something akin to curiosity. The little girl tilted her head to the side, the wolf mimicking her. The girl smiled, and began to giggle as the wolf licked her elbows, cleaning the blood from her skin. She playfully grabbed the wolf’s nose, who snorted, shaking its head indignantly. The wolf padded away to the edge of the clearing, laying down, keeping a watchful gaze upon the little elf. 

The girl walked over to the wolf, and sat down next to the wild creature, cooing as she ran her fingers through their soft, thick fur. The wolf sniffed at her hair, and licked her cheek, eliciting a delighted giggle from the little elf. Eyes wide with curiosity, the toddler reached up and touched the wolf’s ears, humming. The wolf sat calmly, looking down at the girl with a watchful gaze. The girl grinned, looking up at the wolf, their gazes meeting, and for one brief moment, it seemed as though the two understood each other. 

“Asharen!” A voice shouted, shattering the silence in the clearing. “Asharen, where are you?!” 

The wolf rose to their feet, ears pointed forward, hackles raised. Anxiously, the wolf nudged the child further into the clearing, then disappeared into the brush. Crying out in disappointment, the child went after the wolf, but didn’t make if far as two strong hands lifted her from the ground. 

“There you are, da’len!” The elven man said, holding Asharen in his arms. “Is this where you went off to?” The man looked about the clearing, and when his gaze fell upon the wolf statue, his eyes narrowed in distrust. 

“We need to head back, Asha, your mother is worried about you.” The man said, carrying his daughter out of the clearing. 

“But I wan’ go back!” Asharen said, reaching out to the wolf statue. 

“I know, da’len.” The man nodded. “But the Dread Wolf is not to be trusted. It’s not safe here.” Asharen pouted, watching the the wolf statue and the clearing disappear from view. And she could swear, that just for a moment, she saw the wolf with green eyes again, watching her from the undergrowth.

“May the Dread Wolf never catch our scent.” The man murmured, almost as if in prayer.


	2. The Wrath of Heaven

_ Those who oppose thee shall know the wrath of heaven. _

_ Field and forest shall burn, _

_ The seas shall rise and devour them, _

_ The wind shall tear their nations _

_ From the face of the earth, _

_ Lightning shall rain down from the sky, _

_ They shall cry out to their false gods, _

_ And find silence.  _

_ Andraste 7:19 _

* * *

 

Asharen Lavellan awoke to unfamiliar surroundings. Her whole body ached, like a giant had just trampled her, and on her left hand a strange green glowing mark sparked and sputtered, leaving behind a burning and tingling sensation. Gritting her teeth, the elven woman forced herself up onto her feet, and as her blue eyes came into focus, she took in her surroundings.

Asharen couldn’t see much; a thick green fog obscured much of where she was, and the air seemed to hum and whisper with energy. Asharen frowned, her senses on edge. Everything screamed danger to her, and her instincts told her to find a way out. Fast. Looking up, she was blinded by a bright light, and raised her hands to shield her eyes. Taking a second look, she realized the light was a figure of a woman, standing at the top of a staircase, beckoning to her urgently. Seeing no other options, Asharen began to ascend the great stone staircase. It was a long way up, but Asharen climbed tirelessly, eager to escape from this place of terrors.

Just as she thought she was safe, Asharen began to hear a distinct clicking noise, followed by a scuttling that she knew all too well. Looking over her shoulder, Asharen found that a swarm of spiders were scurrying after her, Breaking into a run, Asharen reached out to clasp the glowing figure’s outstretched hand, and there was a flash of bright light.

She fell to the ground, no longer in the strange place. Her hand was sparking angrily, and all around her was the smell of ash and something burning. She tried to rise to her feet, unsure if the danger had passed, but found herself too weak to move. The last thing Asharen heard before slipping into unconsciousness was the sound of armored feet running towards her.

 

The cell was dimly lit, a single torch providing warm orange light. Asharen knelt shackled in the center of the room, the mark on her hand sputtering. Looking up, Asharen quietly observed the four guards standing several paces away from her, noting the sharp edge to their drawn swords. Asharen frowned. She no longer knew where she was, and her mark continuously causing her pain did not help to sooth her nerves.

Asharen gasped in pain as her mark began to flare up once more, and the door to the cell opened. Two women entered, one wearing armor, the other wearing a hooded uniform. Both looked very unhappy. The soldiers around Asharen sheathed their swords, and stepped back away from her. The armored woman with short dark hair circled her for a moment, then stood behind her.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you know." She spoke with a Nevarran accent. "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you." The woman's voice was thick with emotion, grieved by the loss of life.

Asharen frowned. "You think I'm responsible?"

The armored woman grabbed her left wrist, holding it up as the mark sputtered then died. "Explain _this_!"

"I-I... can't." Asharen stuttered out. 

"What do you mean, you can't?" The dark haired woman spoke again, her anger boiling over. 

"I don't know what that is, or how it got there." Asharen explained frantically. "Please, you have to believe me!"  _I should never have left home..._

"You're lying!" The woman growled, moving as if to strike Asharen, who flinched back. Before any real harm was done however, the woman wearing a hood stopped her. 

"We need her, Cassandra." She spoke, her voice betraying a faint Orlesian accent. Cassandra glared at the woman, but reluctantly gave in. 

"I don't understand." Asharen spoke, shaking her head. "What's going on?" 

"Do you remember what happened?" The hooded woman asked. "How this began?" She spoke far more calmly than Cassandra, and Asharen got the feeling she was using her collected nature to hide deeper emotions. 

"I remember running." Asharen said, struggling to remember. "Things were chasing me. And then... a woman?" The memories were fuzzy to her, like she was seeing them at a bottom of a deep lake. 

"A woman?" The Orlesian woman frowned. 

"She reached out to me, but then..." Asharen tried to explain, unsure of her own words. 

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana, I will take her to the rift." Cassandra said to Leliana.

Nodding, Leliana swiftly strode out of the room, leaving Asharen alone with Cassandra and the soldiers. 

"What  _did_ happen?" Asharen asked as Cassandra removed her manacles and tied her wrists together with rope. 

"It will be easier to show you." Cassandra said, helping Asharen to her feet and leading her outside. It took a moment for Asharen's eyes to adjust from the dim light of the cell to the brightness of the moonlit sky. But something else than the moon cast light upon the ground. A great, green, swirling void sat in the sky, tendrils of green light snaking down to the earth. 

"We call it the Breach." Cassandra said, following Asharen's gaze. "It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It's not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave." 

"An explosion can do that?" Asharen asked, brow furrowing. 

"This one did. Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world." Cassandra nodded. 

The sky rumbled as the Breach expanded, the mark on Asharen's hand sparking violently, and she collapsed to her knees, crying out. As the Breach stopped growing, the sparks died down, and the pain faded. 

"Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads, and it is killing you." Cassandra said, kneeling in front of Asharen. "It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time." 

"You say it may be the key. To doing what?" Asharen asked, looking up at Cassandra. 

"Closing the Breach." Cassandra answered. "Whether that's possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance, however. And yours." Asharen sighed, looking up at the Breach. 

"I understand." She said, returning her gaze to Cassandra.

"Then...?" Cassandra asked, the hardness in her gaze relaxing.

"I'll do what I can." Asharen said. "Whatever it takes." 

Cassandra seemed surprised, but pleasantly so by Asharen's answer. She helped the elf to her feet, and guided her through the streets to the edge of town. Several townsfolk scowled at her, many of them shouting and Asharen could hear several insults of "knife-ear", "heathen", and "barbarian" being thrown at her. 

"They have decided your guilt. They need it." Cassandra explained over the clamor. "The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and Templars. She brought their leaders together, and now, they are dead." Soldiers open the gates that lead outside the town, the two passing through. Several soldiers stood on the bridge, some praying, some tending to wounds.

"We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves as she did. Until the Breach is sealed." Cassandra stopped, pulling out a dagger, and cut the ropes around Asharen's hands. "There will be a trial, I can promise no more." Asharen nodded in understanding, rubbing her wrists.

"Come, it is not far." Cassandra continued down the bridge. "

"Where are you taking me?" Asharen asked, following after Cassandra, trying to ignore the distrustful and hateful glares of the soldiers. 

"Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach." Cassandra said over her shoulder. Asharen looked up once more at the Breach, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. What ever caused the explosion and tore a hole in the sky must've been extremely powerful, and that threat could still be there. Waiting. 

"Open the gate! We are headed into the valley!" Cassandra ordered a pair of soldiers, who complied. Asharen and Cassandra set off at a jog onto the path, passing by flaming barricades and corpses. Soldiers ran past them down the hill and back to camp, screaming that it was the end of the world. When Asharen and Cassandra reached the top of the hill, the Breach grew again, Asharen's mark reacting violently, and she clasped her wrist, collapsing to her knees. Cassandra helped her to her feet, patting her shoulder.

"The pulses are coming faster now." She said, continuing along the path, Asharen at her heels. "The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face."

"If the initial blast destroyed the Conclave, how  _did_ I survive the blast?" Asharen asked. 

"They said you... stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious." Cassandra said carefully. "They say a woman was in the rift behind you, no one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you'll see soon enough." 

The pair begin to run across a second bridge, but before they could cross, a meteor falling from the Breach destroyed the stone structure, and the warrior and elf tumbled down onto the frozen river below. Knowing she gained some bruises that she would feel over the next several days, Asharen struggled to her feet, looking back up at the bridge.  _Looks like we're not taking the main road._ She helped Cassandra to her feet as a second meteor landed in the river several paces from them, a demon crawling out of a pool of eerie green light.  _Well, shit._

Cassandra drew her blade, holding her shield out in front of her. "Stay behind me!" She shouted, charging the Shade.

The ground beside Asharen's feet began to bubble and hiss, a demon hand reaching out of the black mass forming. In a panic, Asharen began to look around for a means of defense, her gaze falling upon a pair of short swords. Rolling away from the demon that springs in front of her, Asharen grabbed the swords, pouncing on the demon with a shout and driving her blades into the creature's torso. Trying her best not to slip and slide on the icy terrain, Asharen made her way over to Cassandra, helping her take down the last demon. With an ear splitting shriek, the demon faded away, leaving nothing behind. 

"It's over." Asharen said, slightly out of breath. Her gaze hard, Cassandra leveled her sword at Asharen, who slid into a defensive position.

"Drop your weapon.  _Now_." Cassandra ordered, her tone firm. 

Seeing no time to argue, Asharen complied. "All right, have it your way." She said, lowing her swords. 

Cassandra sighed. "Wait." Asharen raised her eyebrow. Cassandra sheathed her sword, strapping her shield to her back. 

"I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless." She said, smiling faintly. "I should remember that you agreed to come willingly." Asharen nodded her thanks, strapping the short swords to her back. 

"Here, take these potions, Maker knows what we will face." Cassandra offered to Asharen as they continued their trek. 

"Where are the rest of your soldiers?" Asharen asked, stowing the potions away in her pouch strapped to her belt. 

"At the forward camp, or fighting." Cassandra said. "We are on our own for now." 

The pair continue to run along the river, fighting their way through demons and helping soldiers find help along the way. The waves of demons seemed endless, and they would be, Asharen knew, if they didn't close the Breach soon. Slaying the last of the demons in the area, Cassandra and Asharen ran up a stone staircase, careful not to slip on the snow. As they ascended, the sound of metal clashing, shouting, and quick footsteps reached their ears. 

"We're getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting." Cassandra said. Despite all the fighting and running the two had done, she didn't appear to have broken a sweat, and Asharen found herself impressed by the warrior. 

"Who's fighting?" She asked. 

"You'll see soon. We must help them." Cassandra said. The two soon reached the top of the stairs, and greeting them was a green rift, similar to the breach, but much smaller. Fighting below it were several soldiers, a dwarf with a large, complex crossbow, and an elven mage. All were being overwhelmed by demons. 

Not waiting for Cassandra, Asharen slipped into the fight, darting in and out of view as she sliced her way through demons. Taking a moment to survey the fight, Asharen watched a demon snake it's way to the elven mage, who had his back turned to it, preoccupied with two other demons attacking him from the front. 

"Behind you!" Asharen shouted, leaping forward and driving her swords into the demon's back, who screamed in pain. The elven mage seemed surprised, but quickly turned his attention back to the fight at hand, wielding magic with an expertise that Asharen had rarely seen. Soon the horde of demons was defeated, and the elven mage grabbed Asharen's wrist. 

"Quickly, before more come through!" He shouted, holding Asharen's hand up to the rift, a stream of green light pouring into the tear in the Veil, and with a flash of bright light and sparks the rift closed. The mage released Asharen's hand, stepping back.

"What did you do?" Asharen asked, raising an eyebrow at the mage. 

" _I_ did nothing. The credit is yours." He said, bowing his head slightly. He seemed humble enough, but the look in his eyes told Asharen that he seemed to think he knew everything with a certain feeling of pride. 

"At least this is good for something." Asharen said, looking down at her hand as the mark faded. 

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand." He continued. "I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that had opened in the Breach's wake - and it seems I was correct." He added with a self-satisfied smile. 

"Meaning it could also close the Breach itself." Cassandra said, walking up to the pair.

"Possibly." Solas nodded. 

"Good to know!" The dwarf spoke, putting away his crossbow. "Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever." He walked up to the trio with a sort of swagger, like he knew his way around people. "Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong." He said with a wink to Cassandra, who scowled. 

"It's good to meet you, Varric." Asharen said politely. 

"You may reconsider that stance in time." The elven man smirked. 

"Aw, I'm sure we'll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles." Varric said. 

"Absolutely not." Cassandra said firmly. "Your help is appreciated Varric, but..." 

"Have you been in the valley lately Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me." Varric met Cassandra's glare with a smirk, who groaned, reluctantly giving in. 

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I'm pleased to see you still live." He said to Asharen. 

"He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept'." Varric said. 

"Then I owe you my thanks." Asharen said, turning to face Solas. 

"Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process." Solas said, bowing his head. He then turned to Cassandra. 

"Cassandra, you should know," He said. "The magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power."

"Understood." Cassandra said. "We must get to the forward camp quickly." Solas and Cassandra headed off down the path, leaving Asharen and Varric. 

"Well, Bianca's excited!" Varric grinned with a shrug, nodding to his crossbow as he followed Solas and Cassandra. Asharen watched the three, unsure.  _What the hell have I gotten myself into?_ She wondered, continuing down the path. 

 


	3. The Wrath of Heaven (continued)

Asharen, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas walked down the path in silence, snow falling lightly on the ground. Cassandra lead the ragtag team, Asharen walking close behind, Varric and Solas bringing up the rear. Of her new companions, Asharen found that Varric had been the friendliest to her so far, but that wasn’t to say that Solas or Cassandra had been unkind, just suspicious. It wasn’t like they didn’t have reason to be either. 

Asharen turned her gaze to Cassandra. She seemed to trust Asharen, although slowly. Even though Asharen did not know the Seeker very well, she had proven herself reliable in troubled situations. And for that, she had Asharen’s respect.

Varric seemed to have good intentions, but there was a mischievous, tricky look about him. At least he was helping. As for Solas…

Asharen didn’t know what to make of the elven mage. He wasn’t Dalish; he lacked the traditional vallaslin markings Dalish elves bore on their face. Cassandra said that he wasn’t a Circle Mage, but he carried himself with a manner that suggested he wasn’t a common city elf. And he seemed to have a deep knowledge and understanding of magic, so perhaps he was self taught? As if Solas could feel Asharen’s gaze on him, he spoke:

“You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan.” He said. “Did they send you here?”

“My clan’s Keeper did.” Asharen said. “What do you know of the Dalish?”

“I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion.” Solas answered simply, though there was an air of disdain when he spoke of her people.

“Crossed paths?” Asharen asked, tone dropping and raising an eyebrow. 

“I mean that I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition.” Solas said coldly. 

“Can’t you elves just play nice?” Varric sighed. 

Before Asharen could respond, Solas shouted, “Demons ahead!” Asharen and the others looked ahead, and sure enough, a band of demons were swarming across the nearby frozen river. 

“Glad you brought me now, Seeker?” Varric asked, arming his crossbow. Cassandra only growled, drawing her sword and running to rush at the demons. 

Exhaling slowly, Asharen drew her dual swords, slipping past Solas and Varric who were launching spells and bolts at the demon horde. Asharen skirted the edges of the river, fading into the snowy background, her feet barely making a sound as she approached her prey. At the far end of the bank, two wraiths were releasing bright green balls of some kind of energy at the other three, but were otherwise oblivious to the approaching rogue. 

With nimble footsteps, Asharen leapt from the shadows, her blades whispering through the air as she sliced through both wraiths. The demons let out unnerving shrieks as they faded away, and Asharen turned her attention to the fight behind her. That’s when she found herself face to face with an approaching shade. Screeching triumphantly, the demon raised its long claw-like fingers, ready to strike Asharen down. Reflexively, Asharen raised her swords to defend herself from the worst of the blow. Before the demon could strike however, it was hit with a magical blast that froze it in its place, then another that caused it to shatter into several shards. 

Frowning, Asharen glanced at the others as Cassandra and Varric finished off the last two demons, and found Solas standing still, his neutral gaze upon her. Asharen nodded her thanks, and he returned the gesture. 

“Are there anymore demons in the area?” Asharen called out, sheathing her swords. 

“Doesn’t look like it.” Varric said, disengaging his crossbow. 

“Let’s keep moving.” Cassandra paused to catch her breath. The four crossed the river, briefly tending to any injuries they sustained with the help of Solas, who used his magic to heal what he could. 

The sky thundered and cracked as the Breach expanded once more, and Asharen stumbled, hissing in pain and clutching her hand to her chest as the mark flared and crackled. 

“Shit, you alright?” Varric frowned, brow furrowed. 

“I’ll be fine.” Asharen gasped, the pain in her hand fading as the mark subsided. “Just focus on closing the Breach.” Varric looked like he wanted to press further, but let the subject drop as Asharen continued forward, carefully making her way up stairs covered in snow and ice. 

“So, are you innocent?” Varric asked, attempting to make friendly conversation. 

“I don’t remember what happened.” Asharen shook her head, silver hair flying in the wind. “For all I know, I could be as guilty as everyone thinks I am.” 

“That’ll get you everytime.” Varric hummed with a shrug. “Should’ve spun a story!” 

“That’s what  _ you  _ would have done.” Cassandra said. 

“It’s more believable!” Varric grinned devilishly. “And less prone to premature execution.” 

The hill continued upward and the stairs gave way to a trampled path, and dotting the hillside were flaming wagons, large boulders, pine trees, and countless corpses. 

“I hope Leliana made it through all this.” Cassandra said, frowning. Although Asharen did not point it out, there was worry in her gaze and voice. 

“She’s resourceful, Seeker.” Varric said softly, attempting to reassure the warrior. 

“We will see for ourselves at the forward camp, we are almost there.” Solas said, looking ahead, using his staff as a walking stick. 

As they climbed up the hill, the knot in Asharen’s stomach twisted tighter. The closer they got to the camp, the more dead they found, and the more demons appeared. Asharen cut her way through each one, her instinct to survive all this pushing her muscles to move and react. She knew their current situation was dire, but as the hours progressed, things seemed to be spiraling further out of control. 

Asharen couldn’t help but wonder if other Fade rifts had open elsewhere, and if demons were now running rampant throughout Thedas. Was her Clan safe? Did they know what had happened here? Were they wondering if she was alive? 

“Another rift!” Cassandra shouted, jerking Asharen back to the present moment. 

“We must seal it, quickly!” Solas conjured up several protective wards around the group. The mark on Asharen’s hand sputtered to life as she neared the rift, and she followed close behind Cassandra into the fray of clashing demons and soldiers. Asharen soon found herself lost in the fight, twisting and turning, acting and reacting to each attack. Looking up at the rift above her, Asharen raised the mark, quickly sealing the rift. The remaining demons fel, and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. 

“Open the gate!” Cassandra shouted to the soldiers guarding the large stone entry several paces away, wiping the blood off her blade. 

“Right away, Lady Cassandra!” A soldier saluted. 

“We are clear for the moment,” Solas panted. “Well done.” He nodded to Asharen. 

Varric hummed in agreement. “Whatever that thing on your hand is, it’s useful.” 

“It does seem that way.” Asharen looked down at her hand as they strode through the open gate. 

Ahead lay a long stretch of cobblestone, soldiers moving about, many heading back behind the gate to secure the route to the forward camp. A Chantry priestess tended to several wounded, and a soldier holding a pad of parchment attached to a thin wooden board tallied the bodies wrapped in grey canvas and rope. Crates and barrels filled with various supplies lay stacked against the bridge’s railings, and at the far end of the camp, Asharen could see Leliana with what appeared to be a Chantry priest who was looking over several maps strewn out on a small table, deep in an argument. 

“We must prepare the soldiers!” Leliana could be heard saying as Asharen and the other approached. 

“We will do no such thing.” The priest retorted, folding his arms.

“The prisoner must get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, it is our only chance!” Leliana objected. 

“You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility!” The priest said, glaring down at Leliana. 

“ _ I  _ have caused trouble?” Leliana asked, staring defiantly back, her tone dropping dangerously. 

“You, Cassandra, the Most Holy - haven’t you done enough already?” The priest shook his head. 

“You are not in command here!’ Leliana growled. 

“Enough!” The priest said, now shouting. “I will not have it!” He looked up from the maps on the table, eyes narrowing at the approaching group. 

“Ah, here they come.” The priest said, looking down his nose at Asharen with a sneer, hands clasped behind his back. Asharen met him with an almost challenging glare, jaw clenched. 

“You made it.” Leliana said, relieved. “Chancellor Roderick, this is -” 

“I know who she is.” Roderick interrupted. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution!” 

“‘Order me’?” Cassandra scoffed. “You are a glorified clerk, a bureaucrat!” 

“And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!” Roderick countered. 

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor.” Leliana spoke calmly. “As you well know.” 

“Justinia is dead!” Roderick raised his hands exasperatedly. “We must elect her replacement, and obey her orders on the matter!” 

“If we don’t close the Breach finding a new Divine will be the least of your problems.” Asharen said coldly.

“You brought this on us in the first place!” Roderick said, enraged. 

“What proof do you have?” Asharen snarled. 

“Call a retreat, Seeker.” Roderick said, blatantly ignoring Asharen. “Our position here is hopeless.” 

“We can stop this before it’s too late.” Cassandra said. 

“How?” Roderick shook his head. “You won’t survive long enough to reach the Temple, even with all your soldiers.”

“We must get to the Temple, it’s the quickest route.” Cassandra insisted. 

“But not the safest.” Leliana added. “Our forces can charge as a distraction, while we go through the mountains.”

“We lost an entire squad on that path, it’s too risky.” Cassandra frowned. 

“Listen to me!” Roderick said. “Abandon this now, before more lives are lost!” 

All of them looked up as the sky thundered and the Breach grew, and Asharen clutched her wrist as her mark blazed and spread from her wrist to her forearm.  _ I won’t make it home, will I?  _

Cassandra turned to face Asharen. “How do you think we should proceed?” Asharen looked up at Cassandra, the back up at the mountains and the Breach.  _ Going home won’t matter if I don’t seal it.  _

“Use the mountain path.” Asharen decided. “I may not even survive closing the Breach anyway, so that’ll save you the trouble of putting me on trial.” Cassandra seemed displeased, but she nodded. 

“Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley.” Cassandra said to Leliana. “Everyone.” Leliana nodded, swiftly striding away to gather the soldiers. As Asharen and the others headed towards the mountain path, she could feel the Chancellor’s glare upon their backs. 

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker.” Roderick warned. Cassandra grit her teeth, jaw clenched, ignoring the cleric. 

 

The air was frigid, the cold wind biting at Asharen’s pointed ears. She trudged ahead of the others through the snow, trying her best to navigate the rugged terrain. Cassandra followed close behind, Varric and Solas in tow. Soon the group came upon an old trail that lead to a series of man-made ledges and ladders that went up the mountain side. 

“What is this place?” Asharen asked, looking up the wooden walkways and ladders. 

“This used to be a mining complex. There are several pathways like this through the mountains.” Cassandra answered, beginning to scale a ladder.

“And the missing soldiers are somewhere in there?” Varric called over the howling wind. 

“Along with whatever has detained them.” Solas added, a grim expression on his face. Asharen climbed after Cassandra, once again taking the lead. The ladders and walkways lead to an opening into a dimly lit corridor. Asharen paused at the entrance way, motioning for the others to stay silent. Pressing up against the archway, Asharen listened, hearing the faint growls and whispers of demons, risking a quick peek inside to confirm her observations. Her fingers slowly closed around the hilt of the dagger at her side, pulling the blade from its sheath. Taking a deep breath, Asharen flicked her wrist, the dagger hissing through the air and striking a demon in its head, the creature howling in pain before slumping to the ground. 

Cassandra barreled through the entrance after the dagger, sword and shield at the ready, Varric and Solas taking up positions just inside the archway. Ripping one of her short swords from its sheath, Asharen darted after Cassandra, leaping after the fallen demon and plunging her sword down the throat of a screeching demon, twisting the blade as she ripped it out. Between the four of them, the demons fell in a matter of seconds, and they themselves sustaining only minor injuries. They pressed onward, walking down hallways, searching for clues of the whereabouts of the missing squadron. They encountered a handful of demons, but each one was swiftly dealt with.  

“So do you have a name?” Varric asked Asharen. “Calling you ‘the prisoner’ is getting old.” 

“It’s Asharen.” She answered. 

“Pleased to finally meet you, Asharen.” Varric grinned, and Asharen couldn’t help but smile. 

Soon they came across the exit of the mine, finding a few bloodied corpses of soldiers, their bodies contorted in pain, frost and snow beginning to bury them. Asharen crouched down to examine one of them, finding claw marks and deep wounds.  _ Demons.  _

“Guess we found them.” Varric said, shoulders slumping.

“This cannot be all of them.” Cassandra frowned.

“The rest could be farther up ahead.” Asharen said, rising to her feet and continuing forward, the others following after her. The sound of demons screeching and clashing swords soon reached their ears, their pace quickening, soon coming upon a rift where the squadron battled an array of demons. Asharen ran towards a large demon with sickly green bark-like skin, long legs and arms that reminded her of twigs that was bearing down on an unsuspecting soldier, when it seemed to open a green glowing portal in the ground, disappearing through it. 

Asharen stopped in confusion, then without warning, was knocked to the ground, and the demon stood over her, letting out a gleeful ear shattering screech, which was cut short as a crossbow bolt pierced its chest. 

“Thanks, Varric!” Asharen called over the clamor as she rose to her feet. 

“No problem!” Came the dwarf’s reply. 

Asharen pushed through the fight closer to the rift, lifting her marked hand towards it. With a surge of bright energy, the rift folded in on itself and closed, the remaining demons in the area falling. 

Solas walked up, examining the place where the rift had been in the air with narrowed eyes. “Sealed, as before.” He nodded, satisfied. “You are becoming quite proficient at this.” 

“Let’s just hope it works on the big one.” Varric said, putting away his crossbow. 

“Seeker Cassandra!” A woman stepped forward, helping a wounded soldier walk. 

“Captain! You’re alive.” Cassandra said, relieved. 

“Just barely.” The captain nodded. “We’d have been overrun if you hadn’t come.”

“Don’t thank me, thank her.” Cassandra said, nodding to Asharen. “She insisted we come this way.” 

“The prisoner?” The captain asked.

“It was worth saving you, if we could.” Asharen said, sheathing her shortsword. 

“Then you have my sincere gratitude.” The captain saluted Asharen, who was slightly taken aback by the sentiment. 

“Return to the valley, Captain, the way behind us is clear for now.” Cassandra said to the Captain, who nodded, gathering her squadron together and heading back the way they came. 

“The path forward seems to be clear of demons as well.” Solas said, leaning on his staff. 

“Then let’s go.” Asharen said, brushing past the mage. The path ahead lead to a long stone staircase. Craggy black stone spikes jutted out from the ground at the base of the staircase, reaching towards the sky like broken fingers, green energy thrumming through them. 

“Was this…?” Asharen started, voice trailing off.

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes.” Solas nodded.

“What’s left of it at least.” Varric said, kicking rubble to the side. 

“That is where we found you after you fell from the Fade.” Cassandra said, following close behind Asharen. She wandered through the rubble and shattered stone, careful to avoid the broken and charred corpses that littered the ground, the mountain air silent save for the crackling of still burning fires. 

“The amount of magic required to make this happen…” Asharen muttered, half to herself. “How did I survive?” 

The four of them made their way to the center of the explosion, where a shattered statue of Andraste hung in suspension, and a crystalline rift throbbed and pulsed. 

“The Breach is a  _ long  _ way up.” Varric observed, looking around. 

The four of them whirled around at the sound of approaching footsteps, expecting an attack, but instead sighed in relief at the sight of Leliana accompanied by soldiers. 

“You made it! Thank the Maker.” Leliana grinned. 

“Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple.” Cassandra said. Leliana nodded, turning to give the soldiers directions. 

“How am I supposed to get up there?” Asharen frowned, looking up at the massive tear in the sky.  

“You don’t have to.” Solas said, taking a closer look at the rift. “This rift is the first, and it is the key. If you seal it, you may seal the Breach as well.” 

“Then let’s find a way down.” Cassandra said. The four of them walked down a path that somehow survive the blast, their bodies tense with anticipation. Asharen jumped as a deep, rumbling voice echoed throughout the blast.

“Now is the hour of our victory.” The voice spoke, fading away.

“What was that?” Cassandra asked, brow furrowing. 

“At a guess, the person who created the Breach.” Solas said. Asharen looked back at the elven mage, frowning slightly. Solas appeared calm, but Asharen could see his fingers curling tighter around his staff, his eyes glinting. 

As they continued, strange red crystals began to appear, humming with energy. Asharen stepped towards one of them to take a closer look, only to be yanked back by Varric.

“Keep away from it!” Varric hissed. 

“Why? What is it?” Asharen asked. 

“That stuff’s red lyrium.” Varric said, eyes wary. “What the hell is it doing here?”

“Magic could have drawn it out, corrupted it.” Solas said.

“It’s evil.” Varric shook his head, walking away. “Don’t touch it.” If Varric seemed tense before, he certainly was now, and Asharen got the sense that the rogue knew more about red lyrium than he was letting on, but didn’t press for more details. 

“Keep the sacrifice still.” The low voice spoke once again, sending chills down Asharen’s spine. Something about that voice was  _ familiar _ , but Asharen couldn’t place why. 

“Someone, help me!” A second voice spoke, desperate.

“That is Divine Justinia’s voice!” Cassandra said, her pace quickening. They leapt down a small ledge into the pit where the blast started, and the mark on Asharen’s hand thrummed. A flash of white light blinded the group for a brief moment, and when they all looked up, they saw a ghostly image of Asharen running into a room, where the Divine was held by an unseen force, a dark shadow looming over her.

“What’s going on here?” The ghost of Asharen asked.

“Run while you can! Warn them!” The Divine cried.

“We have an intruder.” The shadow spoke, anger underlying his tone. “Slay the elf.” He pointed at Asharen, and the vision faded. 

“You  _ were  _ there!” Cassandra said, grabbing Asharen’s shoulder. “Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? What are we seeing?” 

“I don’t remember!” Asharen shook her head, her head swimming. 

“We are seeing echoes of what happened here.” Solas said, his tone soft. “The Fade bleeds into this place… This rift is not sealed, but it is temporarily closed. With the mark, the rift can be opened then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”   
“That means demons.” Cassandra called out to the soldiers. “Stand ready!” Soldiers readied their bows and blades as Asharen stepped forward, raising her hand to open the rift. With a resounding _crack_ , the rift split open, a wave of demons surging forward, lead by a monstrous Pride Demon, who cackled, its body crackling with electricity. 

“Well, shit.” Asharen muttered, unsheathing her swords. For a brief moment her thought travelled back home to her clan, and she sent a silent prayer to whatever god was listening that she would return home after all of this. With a battle cry, Asharen charged forward, hurling herself headfirst into the battle. In a matter of seconds, the remains of the Temple exploded into chaos, arrows whizzing through the air and blades meeting claws. 

Asharen slashed an hacked her way through countless demons, disrupting the rift when she could. At some point she found herself back to back with Solas, covered in the blood of demons and her own. The pride demon growled, summoning an electric whip and cracking it across the battlefield, sending Asharen and many others flying backwards.  

Gasping, Asharen landed by a fallen soldier, their bow held loosely in their hand and a single arrow left in their quiver. Slowly sitting up, Asharen looked back at the large demon, which plowed through soldiers, and showed no signs of slowing down. Gritting her teeth, Asharen grabbed the bow and held the arrow between her teeth, scrambling up a pile of rubble to get a clearer shot. Once at the top, Asharen got down on one knee, and taking a deep breath, pulled back on the bowstring, focusing her aim on the pride demon. The sounds of the fighting drowned out, her vision tunneling. Exhaling, Asharen let go of the arrow, the projectile sailing through the air, finding its mark in the pride demon’s eye. Screeching in pain, the demon reeled back, clutching its wounded eye. The rest of the group and the remaining soldiers converged on the demon. 

“Asharen, seal it!” Solas shouted over the ruckus, hurling a fireball at the demon.

Asharen rose to her feet, and raised her hand to the rift, willing it to seal. With a cry of desperation and pain, bright green energy surged up her arm, and Asharen sealed the rift, collapsing to her knees. Above her the Breach rumbled, and her vision began to darken, her marked hand throbbing violently. The last thing Asharen remembered before drifting off into darkness was Solas, Varric and Cassandra rushing towards her, and the Breach above, calmly swirling and churning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long to arrive! But I'm taking a long break from college now, so I should be able to work on this more. Thanks so much for reading!


	4. Waking Up

Asharen stepped forward when Keeper Deshanna called her name, the clan parting to make way for her as she stepped up the ancient and worn stone steps to the painting of the Evanuris that sprawled across the steep cliff-face. As Asharen ascended the stairs, she found herself gazing upon the faces of her people’s gods, no feeling of peace, security, or faith sparking in her chest. She felt nothing for the Creators, but listened to their stories, if only in hopes of preserving elven culture.    
Today was the day Asharen was to receive the sacred blood writing of the Dalish, the _vallaslin_ . When each elf came of age, they were to meditate on the gods, and cleanse their mind, body and soul. When they had accomplished this, their clan’s Keeper would bestow the _vallaslin_ upon them, marking their faces forever in favor of one of the gods.

Many whispered anxiously about which _vallaslin_ Asharen would earn. She had earned a favorable reputation as a hunter with the clan, and many speculated that she would earn the markings of Andruil, the goddess of the hunt. Even Asharen suspected this, as many other hunters in the clan had earned similar markings.

Asharen turned to face her clan’s Keeper, who nodded, and Asharen knelt, before her clan and the gods, lifting her face towards the canopy above. She closed her sapphire blue eyes as Deshanna began to mark her face, taking a deep breath. Every needle prick felt like fire upon her face, but Asharen steeled herself, clenching her jaw and biting down on her tongue to prevent herself from crying out or whimpering; to show any sign of pain was to show weakness.

The silence of Clan Lavellan seemed to stretch on for an eternity, but like their immortal ancestors before them, they weathered the passage of time with grace and unbound patience. Asharen herself had drifted off into a place that rested between dreams and reality, having now gotten used to the pain. She heard the Keeper step away, and she opened her eyes, blinking in the sudden rush of sunlight. Asharen rose to her feet, legs aching from sitting in a knelt position for so long. Working ice magic with her free hand, Deshanna held up a sheet of ice to Asharen that reflected her features back to her. What she saw not only surprised her, but her clan as well.

Across her cheekbones, in black ink, spread the vine-like branches of Mythal the All-Mother, the Great Protector.

 

Asharen woke to singing birds and a whispering wind blowing through an open window. Her whole body sore, Asharen grit her teeth as she slowly sat up, wincing from the effort. Running a hand through her silver hair, she looked around at her surroundings. She was seated on a sturdy wooden bed, soft blue sheets with gold accents covering the mattress. A fireplace crackled and roared against the wall by her bed, providing warmth and light in the rustic cabin Asharen found herself in. She was dressed in warm but loose linens, and the small wounds she had sustained were cleaned and bandaged.

At the foot of the bed,  a set of clothes and her weapons had been laid out atop a wooden chest. Frowning, Asharen looked around her once more. What had happened last night? Did they succeed in sealing the Breach? And if so, did people still believe she killed the Divine? If that was the case, Asharen needed to run. Far away. If she was condemned a criminal, she could not go back to her clan and put them in danger. Seeker Cassandra had told her there would be a trial, but it was no secret that the shemlens had no love for the elves, and Asharen couldn’t see the trial going in her favor. Asharen’s frown deepened and her brow furrowed.

What if she really _had_ killed the Divine? She had no memory of the explosion at the Conclave, so it could be possible that she really was the criminal everyone was painting her to be. _No,_ Asharen shook her head. _That’s not possible_. Even though Asharen bore no love for the Chantry, she did not despise it so much that she would kill the Divine herself.

So she would run. There was no possible way she could prove her innocence to the world. Asharen would retreat to the Arbor Wilds, where none would dare follow her, and there she would remain. The Arbor Wilds belonged to her people once, and many people feared that ancient place. There she would either die, or live out her days in solitude.

As Asharen rose to her feet to prepare to leave, the door to her cabin opened, a small elven woman walking in, carrying a box of herbs in her arms. When she saw Asharen up and about, she exclaimed, dropping the box and stepping back a few paces. The young woman bore no markings of the Dalish, and had short brown hair.

“I didn’t know you were awake! I swear!” She rambled.

“Don’t worry about it, I only-” Asharen started, her words falling short as the woman dropped to her knees, head bowed. _Just woke up…_

“I beg your forgiveness, and your blessing.” The young woman said, voice shaking. “I-I'm but a humble servant.” _Sorry, what?_

“Where am I?” Asharen asked. _And what the hell is going on?_

“You’re back in Haven, my Lady.” The young woman answered, not daring to look Asharen in the eye. _My Lady?_ “They say you saved us, you stopped the Breach from getting any bigger, like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about in the last three days!”

“Then you’re saying that… they’re happy with me?” Asharen asked, frowning slightly. 

“I-I’m only saying what I heard, I don’t mean anything by it!” The woman said. “I’m sure Lady Cassandra would want to know that your awake, she said ‘at once’!”

“Where is the Seeker?” Asharen asked.

“In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor.” The woman said before darting out of the cabin and closing the door behind her, leaving Asharen alone.

Asharen’s mind whirled. The people of Haven are calling her some kind of hero? A Dalish elf, hero of the shemlens? Perhaps this was just some trick, some dream Asharen would wake up from soon, or the world has truly turned upside down.

Sighing, Asharen got dressed for the day, pulling on an azure blue belted tunic with loose three quarter sleeves, and form fitting brown leggings. After wrapping her feet and arms, she begrudgingly pulled on the boots left out for her. Asharen turned to face a mirror mounted on the wall, blue eyes and a pale face staring back at her. Clenching and unclenching her jaw, she ran her fingers through her long hair, undoing any knots and tangles.

Steeling herself against the outside world, Asharen opened the door the servant had left through moments before, blinking in the blinding sunlight. The sight before her set her on edge. Two soldiers guarding the door saluted her, and behind them lining the path were dozens of Haven’s citizens, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of her. Jaw set, Asharen strode forward, holding her head high, not daring to show any sign of how much she wanted to hide away from the crowd.

As Asharen made her way towards the Chantry, she heard several people whisper about how she stopped the Breach from growing, many calling her _the Herald of Andraste_ , which made Asharen want to grind her teeth together. Outside the Chantry doors she was greeted by sisters and clerics, who parted to allow her inside. The great wooden doors to the Chantry closed behind her with a resounding _thud_ that echoed up to the high vaulted ceiling. Light poured in from stain glass windows, and countless candles were lit throughout the room. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and around her Chantry clerics knelt or sat in whispered prayer as Asharen made her way to the doorway at the back of the room. As Asharen neared it, she could hear indistinct shouting, but recognized the voices as Chancellor Roderick’s, Cassandra’s, and Leliana’s, though she couldn’t tell what they were arguing about.

Sighing deeply through her nostrils, Asharen pushed the door open, striding as confidently as she could into the room, the shouting ceasing, as the room’s occupants turned towards her.

Roderick sneered at Asharen’s sudden arrival. “Chain her!” He ordered to the two Templars guarding the door, pointing a finger at her. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.”

“Disregard that, and leave us.” Cassandra interjected, the two templars saluting her without hesitation, swiftly leaving the room, the door shutting behind them.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.” Chancellor Roderick snarled, glaring daggers at Cassandra, who met his gaze unflinchingly.

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat.” Cassandra said, her tone calmer than the Chancellor’s. “I will _not_ ignore it.”

“I tried my best and did everything I could to seal the Breach, and it almost killed me.” Asharen spoke, keeping her tone as even as possible.

“Yet you live.” Roderick said. “A convenient result insofar as you’re concerned.” Asharen’s temper flared, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Cassandra interjected.

“Have a care, Chancellor.” She said, brow furrowed at the older man. “The Breach is not the only threat we face.”

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave, someone Most Holy did not expect.” Leliana said, her expression unreadable. “Perhaps they died with the others, or, have allies that yet live.”

“ _I_ am a suspect?!” Roderick gasped, appalled.

“You, and many others.” Leliana answered, venom dripping from her words.

“But _not_ the prisoner.” Roderick said, growling.

“I heard the voices in the Temple.” Cassandra said, stepping between Roderick and Leliana. “The Divine called to Asharen for help.”

“So the elf’s survival, that thing on her hand - all a mere coincidence?” Roderick asked, looking down his nose at the Seeker. Behind the Chancellor Asharen snarled, wanting nothing more than to beat the everloving shit out of him.

“Providence.” Cassandra said. “The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

Asharen frowned. “You realize I’m an elf. A _Dalish_ elf.” She said, her brow furrowed.

“I have not forgotten.” Cassandra lightly shook her head. “But no matter what you are, or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it.”

“The Breach still remains, and your mark is our only hope of closing it.” Leliana continued, holding her hands behind her back.

“This is not for you to decide!” Roderick roared, eyes glinting with anger and frustration.

Cassandra turned, grabbing a book and slamming it on the large wooden table before her.

“You know what this is, Chancellor?” Cassandra asked, her voice as hard and sharp as steel. “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn. We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order, with or without your approval.”

Roderick ground his teeth, seething with anger, then stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Asharen watched him leave, eyes narrowed.

“This is the Divine’s directive.” Leliana said. “Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now, no Chantry support.”

“But we have no choice. We must act now, with you at our side.” Cassandra nodded to Asharen.

“What is the Inquisition of old, exactly?” Asharen asked, turning to Leliana, looking down at the massive tome on the table.

“It preceded the Chantry.” Leliana explained. “People banded together to restore order in a world gone mad.”

“After, they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order, which has since lost its way.” Cassandra said. “We need those who can do what must be done under a single banner once more.”

“And me not being here isn’t an option?” Asharen asked, sighing heavily.

“No, it isn’t.” Cassandra said. Asharen gazed upon the book once more, deep in thought. She had seen the demons that came from the Breach, and how close the world had gotten to ending. She saw the charred corpses of those who were caught in the explosion, and how many soldier had died during their attempt to seal the Breach. How could she in good conscience turn away?

“I will stay then.” Asharen nodded, looking up at the two women before her. “And I will help in whatever way I can.” Cassandra shared a surprised glance with Leliana, then faced Asharen, smiling with approval.

“Then let us begin.” Leliana said, smiling.

 

Over the next few days Asharen barely had any time to rest. She worked tirelessly to help heal the wounded, journeying out into the nearby woods to gather herbs. She was briefly introduced to Commander Cullen Rutherford, who was placed in charge of the Inquisitions forces. He was a handsome man, with curly blond hair and amber eyes, the faint traces of stubble growing on his chin. And from what Asharen saw, the few soldiers and recruits they had respected the Commander deeply. The next to arrive was Lady Josephine Montilyet of Antiva, and she was a delight. Asharen knew that when Josephine spoke to her, she didn’t see a pair of pointed ears, she saw a colleague. Josephine even once pulled Asharen aside and asked if there had been any open insults directed at her.

“There have been a few sideways looks and whispers, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” Asharen assured her, smiling faintly. Josephine tsked, frowning.

“I shall speak with the staff regarding such conduct.” She said. “If we are to convince the world that Andraste’s Herald is an elf, the Inquisition needs to give you their utmost support.”

“No, you really don’t have to-” Asharen started.

“I insist.” Josephine pressed. “You shouldn’t have to deal with such slander while you are here with us.”

Asharen looked at Josephine with surprise, then smiled. “Thank you, Josie.” She said. “It’s alright if I call you that, right?” She added hurriedly.

Josephine laughed. “Of course.” Suggesting that knowing what life was like as a Dalish may help quell racist conduct within the ranks, Asharen explained what life was like for her back home.

“We wandered throughout the Free Marshes, and every summer we would travel to the many cities to trade.” Asharen began. “The people in the cities and villages ate the same food and suffered the same weather we did. The only difference was that they had home and we wandered.”

“That… must have been difficult.” Josephine said.

Asharen shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad.” She said. “While I enjoyed trading with people in the cities and learning of the world outside of the Dalish, I was happiest in the forests. We would often make camp near elven ruins, and when I was out hunting, I would explore the crumbling ruins and imagine what it was like in the days of Arlathan.”

“Do you miss your clan? You must have family you left behind.” Josephine asked.

“A younger brother. My mother died shortly after giving birth to him, and my father disappeared not long after that.” Asharen said shortly. “The Clan looked over both of us while we grew up.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Josephine murmured.

“It was a long time ago.” Asharen said.

At some point during the day, Varric managed to get her into the local tavern, where they shared a drink or two.

“Alright, now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, how’re you holding up?” Varric asked, lowering his voice. “You went from the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day.”

“This is all bullshit.” Asharen muttered darkly. “It never should have happened.”

“Well said.” Varric nodded, sipping more ale from his tankard then pulling a face. “For days now we’ve been staring at the Breach watching Maker-knows-what fall out of it. Bad for morale would be an understatement. I still can’t believe anyone was in there and lived.”

“I can’t either.” Asharen said, staring blankly in the face. “I still don’t know how I survived. I’m not even sure if I want to know.” Varric hummed.

“Why did you stay, Varric?” Asharen asked. “Cassandra said you were free to go.”

“I’d like to think that I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy. But this…” Varric shook his head. “Thousands of people died up on that mountain. I was almost one of them. And now there’s a hole in the sky. Even I can’t walk away and just let this sort itself out.”

Asharen nodded in understanding. “That’s how I feel as well.” She said, tracing her fingers across the rim of her tankard.

“If this is just the Maker winding us up, I hope there’s a damn good punch line coming.” Varric grumbled. Asharen laughed. Varric smiled dryly.

“You might want to consider running at the first opportunity. I’ve written more than enough tragedies to recognize where this is going.” He said. “Heroes are everywhere, I’ve seen that. But the hole in the sky? That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle.” The two of them shared drinks and stories well into the night, before heading out to find sleep for the night.

As Asharen made the walk back to her cabin, she saw Solas standing at the edge of a dock near the frozen lake, leaning on his staff, and staring out at the Breach’s reflection mingling with the moon’s on the ice. She had seen Solas from time to time, often helping tend to the injured, but hadn’t had the chance to talk with him.

He turned his head to face her, hearing her approach, a small smile gracing his lips.

“The chosen of Andraste.” Solas greeted, inclining his head slightly. “A blessed hero sent to save us all.”

“Am I riding in on a shining steed?” Asharen asked, her lips quirking upward in a smirk as she moved to stand beside him.

Solas chuckled. “I would have suggested a griffon. But sadly they’re extinct.” He hummed. “Joke as you will, posturing is necessary.”

Solas turned his attention back to the frozen lake, his smile fading. “I’ve journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten.” He smiled to himself, then turned back to gaze at Asharen. “Every great war has its heroes. I’m just curious which kind you’ll be.”

“What do you mean ruins and battlefields?” Asharen asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has a history.” Solas began. “Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no living being has ever seen.”

“How do you sleep there?” Asharen said, half smiling.

“I do set wards.” Solas said. “And if you leave out food for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live.” Asharen shuddered.

“Still, I’ve never heard of anyone going so far into the Fade, that’s incredible!” Asharen said.

“Thank you.” Solas smiled faintly. “It is not a common field of study; not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning. But the thrill of finding remnants of a thousand year old dream? I would not trade it for anything.” His smile had widened into a small grin as he stared off into the stars, almost wistful, but Asharen couldn’t help but feel that it was guarded as well. Solas breathed deeply nodding to himself, his face resuming it’s neutral expression.

“I will stay then, at least until the Breach has been closed.” Solas decided.

“Was that ever in doubt?” Asharen asked.

“I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces.” Solas said, his tone growing hard. “Seeker Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution.”

“You came here to help, Solas.” Asharen said as she took a step closer to Solas. “I won’t let them use that against you.”

“And how would you stop them?” Solas frowned, eyebrow raised, his hard blue-eyed gaze staring down at her.

“However I had to.” Asharen said, determination and fire in her voice. For a moment Solas’ stoic mask slipped as his eyes widened in surprise, then smiled.

“Thank you.” He looked up at the sky, then back to Asharen. “It is getting late.”

Asharen nodded, looking out at the lake. “We should get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be just as long as today was.” 

“Sleep well, Herald of Andraste.” He said, turning to leave.

“Don’t call me that.” Asharen said quickly, a quiet anger in her voice.

“It is a title you should get used to.” Solas said, his back to her. “But when we are not in the face of your followers, what would you have me call you?”

“By my name.” Asharen said, shifting to face Solas. The elven mage peered at her over his shoulder, a light smirk on his lips.

“As you wish.” He said softly. “Good night, Asharen.” And with that, he left her standing alone on the dock, nothing but the whispering wind surrounding her.

Asharen quickly retreated to the warmth of her cabin, changing out of her day clothes into warmer nightclothes. With the fireplace lit, Asharen curled up under the covers of her bed, staring at her marked hand, the mark faintly glowing and pulsing with magic. After several long moments, Asharen’s eyes drifted closed, and she slipped away into dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone! Back again with another update! I really hope you all enjoy this chapter! I wanted to start focusing on character relations between Asharen and the other characters, or at least start building on them. If you wanna chat about the story with me, feel free to leave a comment down below or send an ask my way at afreedomdragon.tumblr.com!   
> Thanks so much for reading!  
> Stay awesome!


	5. The Hinterlands

The journey to the Hinterlands was quiet for the most part. While the group had been warned that the fight between the Mages and the Templars was the worst here, they did not encounter either faction en route. The four of them rode hard and fast, nearly riding their horses into the ground. From what they gathered from the reports presented to them by Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen, the fighting was getting worse, and they need to get to the Crossroads as soon as possible. When they stopped to rest or camp for the night, Varric regaled them with tales from Kirkwall, Asharen listening with fascination, Cassandra and Solas taking the stories with a grain of salt. 

As they neared the camp where they were to meet with the stationed Inquisition forces, they could see dark plumes of smoke curling up into the sky past the treetops, and could hear the distant sounds of shouting and clashing steel. The four of them rushed to the camp, quickly dismounting and handing off their tired steeds. 

Asharen took a moment to look around at her surroundings, grateful to be on her own two feet. Soldiers and scouts rushed back and forth between tents and stations within the camp, relaying messages and weapons and supplies, some of them running out of the camp to join the nearby fighting. Asharen frowned. She had heard that the fighting out here was only getting increasingly worse, but now that she was out here seeing a glimpse of it, the Inquisition seemed desperate, trying to protect the refugees and quell the fighting between the Templars and mages. Her attention was snagged by a dwarven woman with red hair pulled back into braids, freckles splashed across her sun-kissed skin, green eyes wide with relief as she ran up to the four of them.

“The Herald of Andraste!” The woman breathed, pausing to catch her breath, hands on her knees. “I’ve heard the stories, everyone out here has. We know what you did at the Breach. It’s a little odd for a Dalish elf to care about whatever's going, but you’ll get no back talk here, that’s a promise!” The woman straightened herself, grinning.

“Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service.” She said. “I, well, everyone here will do what they can to help.”   
Varric laughed shortly. “Harding, huh?” He asked. “Ever been to Kirkwall’s Hightown?”

“Can’t say I have, why?” Harding asked, frowning slightly. 

“You’d be harding in my- oh, nevermind.” Varric started, but shook his head with a frown, Cassandra groaning in disgust. Asharen shook her head, the faintest trace of a smile on her lips before turning to Harding.

“I’m starting to worry about all these stories everyone’s heard.” Asharen said, extending her hand towards the scout, who shook it eagerly. 

“Oh no worries, they only say you’re the last great hope for all of Thedas.” Harding smiled. 

“Oh. Wonderful.” Asharen said, sarcasm dripping from every word. 

“We should get to business.” Harding said, her smile dropping. “The situation here is pretty bad. We came her to secure horses for the Inquisition from Redcliffe’s old horsemaster, Master Dennet. I grew up here, and people always said that Dennet’s herds were the strongest and the fastest this side of the Frostbacks, but with all the fighting that’s been going on, we haven’t been able to reach him. Maker knows if he’s still alive.” 

“What about Mother Giselle?” Asharen asked. Back in Haven, when Asharen met with Cullen, Josephine, Cassandra and Leliana to discuss how to seal the Breach, and how they should deal with the Chantry. Not long after the Inquisition formed, the Chantry denounced the Inquisition, and when asked for aid in closing the Breach, neither the Templars nor the mages responded. Leliana suggested talking to a woman known as Mother Giselle, who has offered her help to the Inquisition in dealing with the Chantry.

“Mother Giselle’s at the Crossroads helping refugees and the wounded.” Harding said. “Our latest reports say that the war’s spread there too. Corporal Vale and our men are doing what we can to protect them, but they won’t be able to hold out for very long. You’d best get going, no time to lose. The Crossroads are down the hill. Just follow the path.” 

“Thank you, Scout Harding.” Asharen nodded, already heading down the path indicated by the dwarven woman at a brisk pace, Solas, Cassandra, and Varric close behind. Snow covered the ground in various sized patches, the hard and cold winter months just starting to settle among the hills and valleys that lay at the base of the Frostback Mountains. 

As they neared the Crossroads, the sounds of combat drew closer, until they could spot Inquisition forces clashing with mages and Templars alike in a chaotic free for all. Asharen’s gaze locked on a mage holding a position on an uphill slope, casting glyphs on the ground and making it difficult for anyone to get near him. Sliding a dagger and shortsword out from their respective sheaths, Asharen wove her way through the battlefield as Solas cast protection barriers on the group, the magic’s effect tingling against her skin. 

Asharen made quick work of any hostile foe that dared approach her, dancing around and away from glowing glyphs. Flipping her dagger in her hand and with a flick of her wrist, Asharen sent the dagger whistling through the air, embedding itself in the mage’s forehead with a sickening crunch. Asharen swiftly retrieved her dagger and took a moment to survey her surroundings. Solas had distanced himself a few paces away from the battle, entrapping foes with glyphs and wards, while protecting allies with barriers. Cassandra and Varric were caught in the chaos, slowly driving back the Templars and mages. Asharen’s focus, however, was drawn to a small family being harassed by Templar swordsmen. 

Snarling, Asharen dashed forward, and with a feral leap, drove her sword into the back of one of the swordsmen, ducking out of the way of his partner’s blade, retaliating with her dagger. 

“Go!” Asharen shouted over her shoulder at the family. “Head for the hills! We’ll come find you when it’s safe!” The mother of the family nodded her head, murmuring a quick ‘thank you’ before ushering her children out of the tiny village. 

By the time Asharen finished off her opponent, the remaining Templars and mages were either killed or driven off, and refugees slowly began to emerge from burning or damaged buildings, eyes darting back and forth, their movements slow and wary. Inquisition soldiers put away their swords, and went straight to helping the village’s citizens, taking the wounded to one of the larger buildings that had been converted into a makeshift infirmary, and working quickly to douse the fires that had been lit in the fight. 

Seeing that the immediate danger had passed, Asharen stalked off into the hills to find the mother and her children, guiding them back to the village, and ushering them to the infirmary to have their wounds checked if they had sustained any. She found Solas in the infirmary as well, helping tend to the wounded, hands aglow with soft silver light as he healed various cuts and burns with his magic. Cassandra and Varric were outside, helping soldiers cart in supplies from the nearby camp. Quietly asking one of the refugees where she might find Mother Giselle, they directed her to one of the few people dressed in the traditional garb of the Chantry, who was currently helping heal the wounds of an Inquisition soldier, soothing him with gentle words. 

“Mother Giselle?” Asharen asked softly, not wanting to disturb the Chantry Mother if she was too busy with her work. 

“I am.” Mother Giselle answered, rising to her feet. “And you must be the one they call the ‘Herald of Andraste’.” Mother Giselle was a dark skinned woman, possibly in her fifties, who stood slightly taller than Asharen and spoke with an Orlesian accent. 

“Not by any choice of mine.” Asharen said, dipping her head in respect towards Mother Giselle. 

Mother Giselle chuckled softly. “We seldom have any say in our fate, I’m sad to say.” 

“So you agree with the Chantry?” Asharen asked. 

“I don’t presume to know the Maker’s intentions, for any of us.” Mother Giselle said. “But I did not ask you to come simply to debate with me.”   
“Then why am I here?” Asharen asked, meaning that question in more ways than one. 

“Come, walk with me for a moment.” Giselle said, leading Asharen out of the infirmary and into the open air. 

“I know of the Chantry’s denouncement, and I am familiar with those behind it.” She began as they walked. “I won’t lie to you; some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine. Some are simply terrified. So many good people, sensely taken from us…” The pained look in Mother Giselle’s gaze gave Asharen the idea that Mother Giselle must have known some of those who were at the Conclave. 

“What happened was horrible.” Asharen said quietly, nodding her head slowly. She remembered watching soldiers carry down countless burnt and charred corpses from what was once the Temple of Sacred Ashes by the cartful, wrapping the bodies in cloth and piling them in a mass grave. So many people wept that day, and Asharen could do nothing to comfort them. There were those that still believed that she had killed the Divine. She found it best to distance herself from those who mourned, to prevent them from taking their anguish out on her. 

“Fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason.” Mother Giselle continued, looking up at Asharen. “Go to them. Convince the remaining clerics that you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe.”

“That won’t just make it worse?” Asharen frowned. 

“Because you are not human?” Mother Giselle asked, giving Asharen a meaningful look.

“That too.” Asharen nodded. Stories of how the people of Orlais treated their elven citizens had reached her clan’s ears, and Asharen was not eager to be on the end of the Orlesian sword against elves. 

“Let me put it this way: you needn’t convince them all. You just need some of them to  _ doubt _ .” Mother Giselle smiled. “Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need.” 

Asharen paused to think, then nodded in understanding. “Thank you.” She said. “It’s good of you to do this.”

“I honestly don’t know if you’ve been touched by fate or sent to help us, but… I hope.” Mother Giselle said, gazing out at the refugees. “Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us, or destroy us.” 

Asharen followed Giselle’s gaze. The Inquisition, mages, Templars, the Chantry, Orlais, Ferelden, all clashing together and looking down at her, the Herald of Andraste, a Dalish elf, completely out of her element in a foreign world. The sudden realization came crashing down on Asharen’s shoulders like a rushing waterfall, threatening to bring her to her knees.    
Mother Giselle spoke, breaking the brief silence between them. “I will go to Haven, and provide Sister Leliana with the names of those that would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can.” Nodding to Asharen, Mother Giselle headed back inside the infirmary, continuing to help care for the injured.  

After tracking down Cassandra, Solas and Varric,  the four of them met with Corporal Vale in a camp the soldiers had set up nearby. Corporal Vale was the first to meet them, greeting them briefly. 

“Thanks for your help.” Corporal Vale said. “The mages and Templars don’t seem to care who gets caught in their war.” 

“What can you tell us of the Templars and rebel mages fighting here?” Cassandra asked. 

“The  _ real  _ rebel mages are up in Redcliffe and taking care of their own. The mages fighting out here are nothing more than apostates. And all the Templars were called to Val Royeax not long ago. These bastards are deserters. Now they’re killing mages and people they suspect are mage sympathizers.” Vale said with a growl in his voice. 

“If the fighting continues, the mages and templars will come back to attack the Crossroads, and we can only drive them back for so long.” Solas pointed out, leaning on his staff. “Should we focus on evacuating the people to a safer city?” 

Corporal Vale shook his head. “No good.” He said. “Most people here are injured, and no one has any kind of supplies to make that kind of journey. Food is running scarce, and with winter starting to move in, many are going to starve or freeze.” 

Cassandra and Solas debated ideas with Corporal Vale, Varric interjecting occasionally to bring up a few missed points. Asharen looked out at the village of refugees, brow slightly furrowed. So many were injured, some huddled around a few small fires to keep off the chill, wrapping thin sheets tightly around their shoulders. In many of the cities and villages Asharen had visited with her clan, the one thing she always noticed was that they were so full of life. Children laughed in the streets, merchants shouted out their wares, and the people themselves lived in idyllic bliss, unaware of the dangers and struggles faced in the natural world. Here, life was caught in a struggle to continue. The people here wore gaunt, tired faces, their eyes betraying their despair. 

Asharen’s hands tightened into fists. Surviving a winter wasn’t impossible, one just had to prepare. This village was this people’s livelihood, their way of life, and it was being threatened by those who didn’t care who got caught in the crossfires of their war. Her clan lived that life everyday, and she would not abandon these refugees to it. 

“The Crossroads is the best chance for the refugees survival.” Asharen said, turning her attention back to the others. “And they can survive, if properly prepared. What are our options for helping the refugees?” The others seemed taken aback by Asharen’s sudden determination, but allowed her to speak.

“One of our recruits says that there may be caches of supplies left behind by the apostates, and hunters have reported seeing rams and the like out in the hills, but with demons, templars and apostates out, it’s too dangerous to go hunting.” Vale reported.

“And where is the fighting the worst?” Asharen asked. 

“On the King’s Road, just beyond here.” Vale said. 

“Then that’s where we’ll avoid them.” Asharen said. “For now we’ll have to split up. The mages and Templars here must have some kind of a base hidden in these hills. If we can find them and drive each faction out of their home turf, we can stop the fighting all together. That’s where you come in Varric, and have Scout Harding help you. Solas, take some available scouts and work on locating and retrieving the supply caches. Cassandra, see if you can help train the refugees who can wield a blade to fight and defend what is theirs. I will go out and see what I can hunt. Try to avoid active confrontation with the mages or Templars. While we’re all out, keep an eye out for rifts, and mark their location so we can head out later to close them.” 

“Are you sure you should be wandering the woods alone?” Varric asked. “I’m sure your a capable hunter, but you could get attacked.” 

“Are any of you capable of walking through the woods without scaring off any sort of animal with a shred of sense?” Asharen asked, raising an eyebrow. Silence followed. 

“That is… a very effective plan.” Cassandra nodded. Corporal Vale pointed out locations on a map where each individual may have better luck in each of their respective tasks, And with that, Cassandra, Varric, Solas, and Asharen went their separate ways, determined to help these refugees in any way they can. 

 

Asharen stalked through the trees and hills, bow in hand, footsteps silent, eyes and ears alert for any signs of wandering rams. Her breath fogged the air before her, the cold biting her pointed ears and turning her cheeks and the tip of her nose pink. 

Asharen was grateful to be away from everything, from everyone, even if it was just for a moment. She had found a number of quiet spaces to be alone in Haven. Her cabin, the docks by the frozen lake, a small room in the Chantry, the small woods nearby, but none of them could put her at ease. Asharen felt unbearably out of place. She had interacted peacefully with humans and their settlements countless times before, but she had never  _ lived  _ among them until now. 

Asharen had always found a peaceful kind of solitude and familiarity amongst the wilderness. No matter where she was, or how foreign the terrain was, the wild was always the same. Life and death, predator and prey, silence and song. Here life hung by a thread, and in the game of survival, one mistake could spell doom for any creature. For Asharen, the rules of survial were as natural as breathing.

Her eyes scanning the ground, a set of footprints caught her attention. Silently crouching down to closer inspect the tracks, Asharen’s fingers brushed against the hoof-like imprints in the snow.  _ Ram _ . Keeping her senses aware of her surroundings, Asharen followed the tracks, careful to remain silent. 

Asharen and her clan had survived many harsh and frigid winters in the Free Marches. They did so by relying on their hunters, following where wild herds of ram and halla wandered the wildlands. And when they could, they’d settle in with tiny villages for a time, sharing resources. For the Dalish, there was nothing more important than the clan’s survival, and Clan Lavellan understood that there is survival in numbers. 

Back home, Asharen was one of their best hunters. Her brother, Avourel, always said that she  _ was  _ the best, but Asharen could name other hunters in the clan just as good if not better than her. Asharen worked with the other hunters in the clan in organizing hunting parties, often times collaborating with the hunters in the human villages and settlements. Together, they’d at least bring back enough food to share between them. But some humans would become hostile. When misfortune happened, the humans turned their blame on the elves, and conflict was ever present. But when the time came for a show of blades, Asharen was always one of the first to protect her clan. And this had earned her a nickname amongst the shemlens. 

The Wolf of Clan Lavellan. Or, among her people  _ Fen’nan _ , the Wolf of Vengeance. 

Her clan at first disapproved of the title Asharen had earned, as they believed wolves to be bad omens, the eyes and ears of the Trickster God Fen’harel. But after spending many years on the hunt, Asharen knew another side of wolves. Their undying loyalty to their pack, their ferocity in battle, and unmatched skill in tracking and hunting prey. Eventually she and her clan took the title in stride, slowly warming up to it. 

Up ahead of her, a twig snapped, and Asharen spotted a lone ram grazing in a small clearing, taking advantage of a patch of exposed grass before the snows blanket the ground. Crouching low to the ground, Asharen moved herself into a position behind a birch tree, where she had a clearer shot at the ram, which remained unaware of Asharen’s presence. Pulling an arrow out of the quiver strapped to her back, she tugged back on the bowstring, the bow itself creaking quietly under the strain. Asharen narrowed her eyes, slowing her breathing, patiently aligning her shot. Exhaling, Asharen let the arrow fly, sending it on its path towards the ram, but a sudden gust of cold wind blew the arrow off course, landing with a  _ thunk _ in the ground beside the ram, startling it off. 

Cursing quietly, Asharen sprang after the ram, yanking the arrow out of the ground as she ran past and chased after the ram into the dense woods. Although she was several paces behind the ram, Asharen managed to keep pace with the ram for some time, nimbly leaping over and off of fallen trees and large rocks, before eventually losing the ram among an old ruin. 

“Shit!” Asharen muttered, kicking away a stone as she put away the arrow. She would have to try her luck elsewhere. Asharen wandered the ruins, looking up at the strange weathered statues. She and the others had encountered statues similar to these on their way to the Hinterlands. Solas had explained that these statues belonged to the Avvar, tribes of men and women apart from the kingdom of Ferelden. 

Footfalls behind her tore Asharen from her ponderings of the past, and she readied her bow and arrow, leveling it at her approacher, but lowering it when she recognized a friendly face.

“Solas.” Asharen said, stowing away the arrow in its quiver. 

“Asharen.” Solas greeted. He looked up at the surrounding statues, a small smile on his face. “I see the ruins of the Avvar have distracted you from your hunt.” 

“Only for a moment.” Asharen smirked. “How goes your search for the supplies?” 

Solas nodded. “A handful of other scouts and myself have found a few locations already, but there are bound to be more in the hills to where many of the apostates have retreated to.” 

“That’s good.” Asharen said. Looking around, Asharen frowned. “I will join you on your search for now, my luck in these woods isn’t the greatest.” Solas inclined his head, inviting Asharen to join him. The two continued on into the forest in silence, not wanting to break the fragile silence around them.

“Is this your first time seeing conflict?” Solas asked as they walked side by side. 

“No, just not on this scale.” Asharen shook her head. “I’ve defended my clan countless times from bigoted humans who think we are lesser just because we have pointed ears. In small skirmishes like that the outcome is always the same. The bandits and highwaymen come in, we fight back, kill a few of them and the rest of them usually run away. But this… this is madness.” 

“War rarely ever is simple.” Solas hummed. Asharen looked up at the taller elven man, eyes curious. How much had he seen in the Fade? How many secrets of the past did he keep in hushed reverence of the long lost memories of those who came before? 

“Solas, what can you tell me of the ancient elves?” Asharen asked. 

“I thought you would be more interested in sharing your knowledge of ancient elven culture.” Solas replied, his tone hard. “You are Dalish, are you not?” 

“What’s your problem with the Dalish? Allergic to halla?” Asharen jabbed.

“They are children acting out stories repeated wrongly a thousand times.” Solas said bitterly. “While they pass on stories, mangling the details I walk the Fade. I have seen things they have not.”   
“And that’s why I’m asking!” Asharen nearly shouted in an annoyed and angry outburst. Solas seemed taken aback, raising an eyebrow. Asharen huffed out a sigh, collecting herself. “ _ Ir abelas _ . It’s just… the Dalish know only so much about what we once were, and much of our history is lost to time or to those who seek to erase it. I cannot walk the Fade as you do. You must know many things.” 

“ _ Ir abelas _ , lethallan.” Solas said. “It was wrong of me to be so hard with you. If… if I can offer any understanding, you have but to ask.” 

“What do you know of the elves before our time?” Asharen asked, now eager to hear an answer.

“The Dalish struggle to remember Halamshiral. But Halamshiral was merely a fumbling attempt to remember a forgotten land.” Solas said.

“Arlathan.” Asharen murmured. 

Solas smiled wistfully. “Elvhenan was the empire, and Arlathan its greatest city. A place of magic and beauty, lost to time.”

“What was Arlathan like?” Asharen pressed, eyes wide with wonder. 

“We hear stories of them living in trees, imagining wooden ramparts or aravels.” Solas said. “Imagine instead crystalline spires reaching towards the stars, or palaces floating among the clouds. Imagine beings who lived forever, for whom magic was as natural as breathing. That is what was lost.” 

“What about their magic? Was it different than the kind that mages use today?” Asharen asked, now walking in front of Solas, facing towards him and walking backwards. 

“No and yes.” Solas said. “Magic is magic, just as water is water. Much of ancient elven magic is more subtle, a legacy from when elves were immortal.” 

“Was elven immortality caused by magic?” Asharen tilted her head to the side. 

“No, it was simply part of being elven.” Solas shook his head. “Some spells took years to cast, their echoes harmonizing with new magic, in an unending symphony.” 

“That sounds beautiful…” Asharen trailed off, her voice soft.

Solas hummed, a sad look in his eyes. “Yes, it was.” 

Asharen loved hearing Solas talk about the past, and she could tell Solas enjoyed sharing his knowledge. His piercing blue eyes lit up, and his lips which rarely ever smiled curled upward. His whole demeanor relaxed, and he seemed more at ease with his surroundings. 

“Could you… could you show me some of the memories you’ve seen sometime?” Asharen asked, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink for reasons she didn’t quite understand. Solas smirked. 

“I’d be happy to share them with you.” He said. Asharen grinned, excited at the prospect of exploring the Fade. 

Together they spent the better part of the afternoon locating supply caches, and Asharen managed to hunt down and kill a few rams, Solas helping her bring them back to the Crossroads. Once they came back, Asharen was handed a handful of letters, most of them from Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana, but two held her attention more immediately than the others. One was from her clan’s keeper, the other, from Avourel. 

Asharen sat down on a nearby rock, opening the letter, eager to hear from her younger brother. 

_ Dear beloved sister,  _

_ You had one job. One fucking job. Spy on the Conclave, and then come right back. Now people are talking about a giant-ass explosion that killed everyone, and that had the entire clan tossed up in chaos and worry. And then we learn that you’re still alive and survived with a weird glowing mark on your hand that can seal holes in the sky. How the fuck did that happen? You’re not a mage, Asha. _

_ Everyone is relieved you’re alive at least, Keeper Deshanna especially. But people aren’t so sure about you staying with a bunch of Chantry people and shemlens. I’ve heard rumors that people say that Andraste sent you through the rift at the Temple, and that some are calling you her Herald. I call bullshit. And from what it sounds like, the Chantry hates that. Be careful, please.  _

_ The clan is doing fine by the way, but not great. The wolves have been attacking even if we bring out fire. We’ve seen some rifts, but they’re far away and we’ve been staying away from them. We all wish you would just come home. _

_ I want you to know that I’m the most worried, and I want to see you back in the Free Marches. But I understand that there are bigger problems now, and that you’re needed with the people you’ve wound up with.  _

_ And before you ask, yes. I have been taking over your share of chores as well as mine. And no, I have not gotten into any more hunting accidents. I’m twenty, and that episode was years ago. We’re past that.  _

_ Dareth shiral, _

_ Avourel  _

Asharen couldn’t keep the wide smile from her face. Her clan was doing well for the most part, but she knew that they would survive without her. It felt so refreshing to hear from her younger brother, whom she cared for and protected with her life since their mother died and their father abandoned them in his grief. She wanted Avourel to come here, but Asharen was not about to drag her brother into a war. Setting the letter from her brother aside, Asharen read through the letter from her Keeper. Deshanna’s letter said much of the same as Avourel’s, but was more formal, and more directed to those of high rank within the Inquisition as well as Asharen. Attached to the letter was a note from Josephine, suggesting Asharen write back to her clan and ask for their alliance. Asharen carefully read through the letters Josephine, Cullen and Leliana sent her, then set out to find parchment and something to write with. A scout offered her their own pad of parchment and a charcoal pencil, and Asharen thanked them, promising to return it when she was done. 

Returning to the camp, Asharen found that tents had been erected for the group, and retreated inside the one that had been set aside for her. Settling down on the bedroll she had brought, Asharen eagerly pulled off her boots, flexing her toes and sighing in relief. She didn’t hate shoes, but she certainly was not used to wearing them. Stretching out on her stomach, Asharen began her reply back to her brother. 

_ Dear World’s Okayest Brother,  _

_ You have no idea how happy I am to hear from you and the clan. I miss you all, especially you Avourel, and though I would love nothing more than to come back home, every day it becomes more and more clear that I am needed here.  _

_ Oh the things I have to tell you, Avourel! The people I have met at Haven have been kind to me, as well as many of the shemlens that live in Haven. But there are still some who mutter ‘knife-ear’ as I pass. It is nothing I can’t handle.  _

_ One of the first people I met was Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, and Sister Leliana, the Right and Left Hands of Divine Justinia. At first both believed me to be guilty of the Divine’s death, especially Cassandra, but after the events in the Temple of Sacred Ashes, both believe I am innocent. Cassandra is one of the greatest warriors I have ever seen, and she is so steadfast in her faith in the Maker that she puts many people in the Chantry to shame. It’s hard not to respect her. And Leliana, now the Inquisition’s Spymaster, is incredibly efficient, and well connected. Honestly, she terrifies me a little bit.  _

_ There is also a dwarf here, named Varric. He’s a writer from Kirkwall, and full of stories. You would like him I think. He’s been the most friendly to me, and though he seems shady, I trust him a great deal. I can only hope that trust isn’t misplaced. You would love his stories. He has so many, and I don’t know if half of them are true, but they are so entertaining to listen to.  _

_ Our chief diplomat for the Inquisition is Lady Josephine Montilyet, and she came all the way from Antiva. Antiva, Avourel! She is an absolute gem. Since we’ve met, she and I have become close friends. Her kindness knows no bounds, but underneath all the pleasantries, I imagine she is just as cunning as Leliana. Josie was one of the first to express concern about racist conduct towards me, and honestly, I was stunned. People so rarely show elves respect. I could have hugged her.  _

_ Commander Cullen is a former Templar, and is now in charge of our military forces. I won’t deny it, he is rather handsome. He is such a workaholic though. I want to tell him to at least take a break every once in a while, but he won’t listen. But his dedication to our troops and the Inquisition is unmatched.  _

_ I met another of the elven here too, though he is not Dalish, or a city elf, or a Circle mage. He calls himself Solas. He’s quiet, but has already shown great wisdom. At first he was a little…  _

Asharen’s hand hovered over the page, frowning as she searched for the right word. 

_ … abrasive with me, but he’s warmed up to the others, as well as myself. He says he can walk the Fade in his dreams, and that he’s seen so many things. It’s… incredible to listen to. He knows so much, especially about how our people lived in the days of Arlathan. He probably knows more than Deshanna, but don’t tell her that. I’m going to ask him more of what he knows. Solas even said that he could show me some of the memories he’s seen! I will admit, I’m more than a little excited.  _

_ We’re currently camped in an area of Ferelden known as the Hinterlands. These woods and hills are beautiful, especially as the autumn leaves give way to snows, but there is much work to be done here.  _

_ Here the fighting between the mages and Templars is the worst. I won’t lie, it’s chaos out here. Many refugees have retreated to the Crossroads, and if the Inquisition doesn’t help them, they won’t survive the winter. I’ve been working with some of the hunters here to find food for them, and I can only hope that we gather enough before the herds of ram move on. None of us plan on leaving until we are certain the refugees have a means of survival. At least this will give us time to decide on what to do about the Chantry. A Chantry cleric named Mother Giselle has offered to help, so there’s that at least.  _

_ I’m glad the clan is doing alright. Please, stay as far away from the rifts as you can. You’d all be overrun by demons in a matter of seconds. As for the wolves… try to stay out of their territory. They aren’t worth the trouble of tracking them down and hunting them.  _

_ Don’t worry about me so much. I’ve got good people behind my back. And I don’t plan on falling anytime soon. _

_ Dareth Shiral,  _

_ Asharen  _

Asharen stayed awake well into the night, writing letters back. It was only until her hand began to cramp up did she stop, curling up under her bedroll, quickly falling asleep. 

Asharen woke early the next morning to finish her letters, finding a messenger to bring them back to Haven, and returning the paper and pencil to the scout she borrowed them from. The next few weeks were spent protecting the refugees at the Crossroads. A handful of attacks by both the apostates and Templars occurred, but were driven off. Asharen went out to hunt daily, rising early and disappearing into the woods for hours, returning by mid-afternoon with a ram or two, and with a bag of healing herbs she had managed to find. The refugee supply stores were increasing, with the apostate caches being brought back from the wilderness by Solas and a few soldiers. The village itself was becoming easier to defend, now that the refugees had means of fighting for themselves. And thanks to Varric’s and Scout Harding’s efforts, the bases of both the apostates and the Templars were found, and with well coordinated attacks, both factions were driven from not only the King’s Road, but the Hinterlands. 

Soon after, Asharen and the others were able to find Master Dennet on his farm, and after dealing with wolves that were harassing the farmers, and building a few watchtowers to help defend the refugees, Dennet’s horses were on their way to Haven. Asharen, Cassandra, Solas, and Varric all took their new steeds out, hunting down rifts and killing demons. More often than not, they would encounter bears, which were cause enough for Cassandra, Asharen and Solas to join Varric in his complaints. They emerged from each fight with a few scratches and bruises, but nothing too serious. 

“If I see one more bear, I’m jumping into the river.” Asharen grumbled, the others echoing the sentiment. 

Autumn leaves gave way to winter snows, but with more peaceful times returning to the Crossroads, new life was starting. Children bundled in scarves and hats now played in the streets, and whenever Asharen passed by with a fresh kill, they would swarm her, asking to see her marked hand. Unable to say no to their eager faces, Asharen crouched down to their level, peeling the glove off her left hand, showing the mark to the children. They would each take turns touching the mark, eyes filled with wonder. Being curious, it was only natural that a river of questions were to follow. 

“Does it hurt?” One would ask.

“Only sometimes.” Asharen shrugged. “But it’s not terrible.” 

“How does it work?” 

“I hold out my hand, and the rift and mark connect, then the rift closes.” Asharen said, mimicking the motion of closing a rift. 

“Did the Maker really give it to you?” This question was always the hardest to answer; Asharen didn’t know herself.

“Maybe. I am uncertain myself.” Asharen said. “But it doesn’t hurt to think that way. Hope is a great thing to have.” 

The questions often times diverted from her mark, and turned to questions about the Dalish. Why does the Herald have tattoos on her face? Did it hurt? Did the tattoos mean anything? How do you get them? What was it like to live in the woods? Was it hard? What games did you play? 

“The same games you do.” Asharen grinned. “Hide and seek was a personal favorite of mine.” It became a daily routine for the children to wait for Asharen to come back from hunting, and when she had handed off the food she had gathered, it was time to play hide and seek with the Herald of Andraste. She and the children had even once gotten Cassandra to play with them once or twice, and although the Seeker tried to act serious, saying that there were more important matters, Asharen knew Cassandra secretly enjoyed it. 

Varric was also a favorite among the children of the Crossroads. Around mealtimes crowds of younger humans would gather around the fire where Varric sat, and he was more than happy to please his eager listeners, regaling them with stories, some made up, some absolutely true, or so he claimed. 

Solas took longer to warm up to the children, and they to warm up to him. They had seen mages before, and only knew them to be dangerous, and Solas always distanced himself from others out of habit. It wasn’t until Asharen suggested that Solas had amazing stories to tell as well, that they slowly began to ask him, encouraged by Asharen. She once caught Solas helping the children build a snowman, then enchanting their new creation to run around and chase the children in a game of tag, his lips quirking upward into a smile. 

When the time came to return to Haven, the refugees were sad to see Cassandra, Varric, Solas, and Asharen leave. Children clung to their arms and legs, begging them to stay just a little bit longer, their parents having to peel them away. 

Waving goodbye, the party journeyed back to Haven along with a handful of soldiers, trying to move ahead of the winter snows. Asharen was going to miss the quiet of the Hinterland’s forest, but the prospect of taking a long, hot bath back in Haven kept her pushing forward. 

Solas and Varric were deep in a discussion about Orzammar and the ancient dwarves. Asharen rode close by, listening in to the conversation with mild fascination, while Cassandra rode just ahead, lips drawn into a tight line and her hands clutching her reins tightly. Her hard eyes stared forward, unmoving, brow slightly furrowed. 

Frowning, Asharen quietly rode up beside Cassandra. “Worried?” She asked. 

Cassandra scoffed. “Is it that obvious?”   
“I’m afraid so.” Asharen said, attempting a friendly smile. A short pause between the two followed. 

“Did I do the right thing?” Cassandra finally asked, looking up. “What I have set in motion here could destroy everything I have revered my whole life. One day, they might write about me as a traitor, a madwoman, a  _ fool _ . And they may be right.” 

“What does your faith tell you, Cassandra?” Asharen asked. 

“I believe you are innocent. I believe more is going on than we can see.” Cassandra said, working herself down to a calmer, more rational state. “And I believe no one else care to do anything about it. They will stand in the fire and complain that it is hot. But is it the Maker’s will? I can only guess.” 

“It’s not like you had any choice.” Asharen pointed out.

“Didn’t I?” Cassandra frowned. “My trainers always said, ‘Cassandra you are too brash. You must think before you act.’ I see what must be done, and I do it! I see no point in running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail. But I misjudged you in the beginning, did I not? I thought the answer was before me, clear as day. I cannot afford to be so careless again.”

“The evidence against me was high.” Asharen said. “I can’t blame you or anyone for suspecting me.” 

“I was determined to have  _ someone _ answer for what happened. Anyone.” Another long silence followed, the two women collecting their thoughts.

“You… you’ve said you don’t believe your chosen.” Cassandra began. “Does that mean…  you also don’t believe in the Maker?” 

“No, I don’t.” Asharen answered simply. “I don’t keep any gods close to my heart, not even my own people’s. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t think greater forces are at play. Call it what you will, but something brought all of us here. And I have decided to put my trust in that.” 

Cassandra nodded, smiling to herself. “Now it simply remains to see where it leads us.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, possibly the longest chapter (so far) in what is bound to be a long and epic tale! Thank you all for reading, and if you want to chat about this fic or just say hi, leave a comment down below, or stop by my tumblr at afreedomdragon.tumblr.com! Stay awesome!


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